The Cameron Highlands is an area covered with jungle, tea plantations and strawberry farms. Adopted by the British as a retreat from the hot Malaysian summers the highlands became a favourite Hillstation. The properties still show evidence of characteristic British features. The area is now occupied by large numbers of Malaysians and immigrants from the Indian subcontinent who have set up home here and eke out a living for tourism through the many cafes, restaurants and souvenir shops plying their goods to the tourists. We stayed in Tanah Rata one of the main towns of the area. It's pretty much a one-street town, so there isn't a lot to do without a car except explore. There are a number of jungle trails around the town which you can take to explore the local vegetation at close quarters, listening to the birds and insects as you go.

As we'd driven towards the town we passed through a neighbouring area, Brinchang, and John spotted a number of bunkers- the golf type. Consequently, our first days trek was in the direction of the golf course. We managed to take in views of the steaming jungle and the rampant construction of new homes going on in the town, before landing at the club. It turned out the pro shop was shut, so there was no club hire service- game off. John, remained surprisingly chipper as he turned tail and we headed back to town along one of the other jungle trails.

The following day we headed off again towards the club. This time when we arrived the Pro shop was shut - again, but this time only for lunch, so at 2 we returned again. Success. The assistant was able to kit John out with a bag of Ping clubs for the princely sum of 60ringetts (about £11.40), and after paying the 60 ringetts course fee he was good to go. I'd just settled down into my coffee shop seat when John reappeared to ask for directions to the first tee....as he couldn't find it! Eventually, he was off and I had three and a half hours to myself before he returned complaining about his poor old bones aching, especially at the thought of walking the 3km back to the hotel.

Needless to say, we made it back, with John insisting he'd never play golf again as he gingerly lowered himself into the seat in the coffee shop. The next day he was bouncing with health again so I suggested we walk in the other direction to the tea plantation. His stiff legs soon returned, and he grumbled his way through the first kilometre until he realised his efforts were in vain and settled into a gentle ramble. The plantation was a lovely sight as the bushes clothed the hills with a patchwork blanket of dappled green, and we were pleased to see the plantation had a tearoom overlooking the area. The plantation produced black tea so we were able to have our first cup of English style tea on the trip. Most countries serve their tea without milk, or with condensed milk, neither of which have the same effect. We also had the chance to combine it with some scones and locally produced Strawberry jam, and cream. It was a real treat after our walk.

On the return leg, we spotted a large bird of prey in one of the trees. We managed to get some photos and later identified it as a Wallace Hawk-Eagle. The walk was alongside the main road, a twisty route that took us alongside the forest. As we climbed further the sky darkened and we both knew it was going to rain. We took refuge from the rain in a bus shelter - a strange find we thought as we'd been told there were no local buses. After about half an hour of heavy rain a moped rider, in a bloodied chefs tunic, pulled up and joined us on the bench. He told us he was waiting for his son.

A yellow school bus subsequently pulled up and off climbed his son, and about thirty-five others. We were suddenly mobbed by all the children as they were interested in what we were doing there and some of them tried to practice their rudimentary English. After what seemed like an eternity a small minibus pulled up, and the children all ran out into the rain towards the vehicle. With help from the moped driver, the children were squashed into the bus until only about fifteen remained on the gravel. The remaining children ran back towards us in the shelter. It seemed these were the older children, probably level 6, who had a couple more words of English, and more confidence In using them. A further ten minutes of interaction and English teaching ensued before the minibus returned and the last batch of children was driven away, waving as they went. By this time the rain had stopped enough for us to set off on the trek back to the hotel ..........